


A Nightmare at Prewett Manor

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Campy, Co-workers, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/M, Haunted House, Murder, Scary Movies, Side Pair Love Triangle, Who Dunnit, alcohol use, slasher fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Hermione is an auror and stationed at a haunted house, which is located at old Prewett Manor and has been abandoned for decades. While the first night goes off without a hitch, it isn't long before one of the patrons is found murdered.





	A Nightmare at Prewett Manor

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for Harmony & Co's Halloween Competition, Double Double Toil and Trouble. 
> 
> All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> Thank you to mcal for her impeccable alpha work on this story, and to GaeilgeRua for beta reading and catching all my crazy errors! 
> 
> **Prompt:** Hermione just got hired as the manager at a brand new Haunted House opening this Halloween. The first few nights go off without a hitch, but recently people have started actually dying throughout the house in mysterious ways.

Harry’s arms were crossed, and he was pointedly ignoring a chunk of dark fringe that fell between his glasses and his eyes. It did nothing to set the serious, concerned tone he was trying to convey. Hermione, the dutiful girlfriend, ignored her bubbling laughter and swept the offending lock off his forehead.

  
“It’ll be fine,” she told him lightly, a shrug to her shoulder as she glanced back to the imposing skyscape of the spindly mansion behind them. “It’s been empty for decades; Molly assured me.”

“I can’t believe that they’ve decided to use old, decrepit Prewett Manor as the backdrop for their haunted house.” Harry’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to face the manor full on.

  
Hermione loved it. It stood like a shadow against the fading sun. Long, thin towers rose to meet the sky. Shingles dangled from its peaky roof. Windows were busted out, the wood around the frame of the home cracked and rotting in spots. The foundation looked solid enough, but Harry thought the building should be condemned. Its creaky bones screeched as the wind blew around them. The cool October winds rattled the last of the leaves from the surrounding trees.

“Muggles are terrible with their survival instincts,” Harry groused, scratching his chin as he finally brought his gaze back to Hermione. “And you — how did they talk you into working in this place until Halloween?”

She grinned at him; that special smile always reserved for him. It said ‘don’t be a negative nelly, Potter’ just the same as it smoothed the worry lines from his face. “Honestly, Harry. If there’s any Auror that should be stationed at a Muggle haunted house in a former Pureblood manor, don’t you think that Auror is me?”

He lifted a brow and pinched his lips. Harry had gotten used to taking his time to answer Hermione’s questions; she was a master at asking one question and discovering an entirely different answer. Still, it made her uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She released a breath when he finally smiled at her.

“I was raised by Muggles as well,” he said finally; low tone and a cheeky vibe rolling through his words. “I could work here, too.”

“Harry.” Hermione stepped closer to him and brought a soft hand to his stubbled chin. “Robards has asked me to monitor the Muggle Studies class, so that’s what I’m going to do. It’s just a little Muggle haunted house. What could possibly go wrong?”

Harry groaned and rested his forehead against hers. “I really wish you wouldn’t have asked that.”

She planted a kiss on his cheek, a sweet laugh washed across his face. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

Hermione left him standing there, not able to do much more than watch as she walked toward Prewett Manor with a sway to her hips. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, straightened her tall, black and pointed hat, and tossed him a wink.

“Send me a Patronus at the first sign of trouble!” He called out to her. 

She didn’t get to see his face as she threw up a hand and waved without looking back.

* * *

Luckily for Hermione, she’d never really been afraid of things like haunted houses or cemeteries or scary movies. It didn’t seem very logical to be fearful of something that couldn’t hurt you. Her parents really loved old slasher films and so, from a young age, she’d watched them with a logical, keen eye. She could guess serial killer identities halfway through a film and very rarely jumped from fright.

So, as she stood in full, traditional witches’ garb in a darkened room, with a potion bubbling and smoking and candles flickering, Hermione was perfectly at ease. Stashed in her silky robes was her very real vine wood wand. She swore to Harry that she wouldn’t even need it; Muggle haunted houses were harmless. But, he forced her to carry it nonetheless. Even though it felt silly, Hermione promised to keep Harry comfortable with her latest humanitarian venture.

The Muggle Studies class was brilliant, and Neville had done a grand job of ushering in a new era of Hogwarts children who could learn through experience that Muggles were really, very harmless. Several of the children dressed up in various Muggle costumes, and littered the manor in dark alcoves, ready to scare the pants off anyone who dared enter. It was good fun for everyone. Not the least bit scary.

When unsuspecting customers would walk through her room, Hermione would stand over her potion with her hands curled, best sinister smile plastered on her face. She’d cackle in a classic witch manner, and then threaten to boil them all into soup. Perhaps she wasn’t the scariest part of the house, but watching their nervous faces as they ducked out of her room was somewhat satisfying.

Screams echoed through the old manor, followed by laughter and cursing. Footsteps clunked up and down the steps of the wide, wooden staircase just outside of her room. She loved the excitement that seemed to permeate through the manor. Thinking of the young wizards who would get to know Muggles on a more real level truly set her heart ablaze.

The first night ended, and Hermione walked from her room down to the main landing near the front door. Neville stood there, dressed as Dracula, and smiled as she approached. His fake fangs trickled a stream of fake blood down his chin, so much so that he almost looked as if he were a ventriloquist’s dummy rather than a bloodthirsty demon of the night.

“Wasn’t that brilliant?” Hermione asked as she pulled the pointed black hat off her head. There was a line of perspiration on her brow that kept her curls clinging to her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Muggle Studies class have so much fun before.”

Neville nodded his head and spoke in a lisp around his fangs. “Yeah, they’re a good group. Even the Slytherins seemed to love it. And for teenagers to like anything... “ he grinned and watched as a group of students ran around them and out the front door. “That’s nothing short of a miracle.”

Just as Hermione began to step away to pack up her stuff and leave for the evening, the front door banged open. She jumped, hand on her chest, and collided right into Neville’s side. He went stumbling but managed to keep them both on their feet.

In the doorway stood a tall, older man with a flat cap and deep grimace. His dark eyes gleamed in the candlelight, and his gaze flickered around the room before finally resting on Hermione and Neville. His gruff voice cut through them angrily as he stepped forward with a limp and a growl.

“What’re you doing in this house?” he demanded, pointing a finger in their direction. It shook, though Hermione wasn’t sure if it was anger or age. “Who gave you permission to trespass on the property?”

Hermione held her hands up in defense, her eyes wide as she offered her apologies. “Sir, this home was contracted out to the Halloween Society for use as a haunted house,” she explained gently. Her heart thumped like mad as he hobbled even closer. Neville crowded her. “We - we have permission to be here from the authorities.”

The old man sighed and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, running it over his head to pick up the sweat that beaded at the edge of his hat. “Listen, miss. I’ve lived on these grounds for years, alright? No one has come in or out of here in decades. Least you could have done was warn me what you all were doing so that I was prepared.”

“Sorry,” Neville said, a placating smile on his face as he gestured around. “This is a project for some students of mine; we weren’t aware that there was anyone still living on the grounds as a caretaker. Did you know the Prewetts well?”

“Aye,” the man said, face crumpling for a moment before twisting back to the anger he’d worn before. “I’ve maintained this lot almost my entire life. And I don’t appreciate that you’re disrupting all my hard work.”

Hermione didn’t like the way the man was leering at Neville. Old and crotchety didn’t seem to cover just how angry he looked. She put her hands further out between them, and tried to calm him down in gentle, soothing tones. “I assure you, sir, we also know the granddaughter of the Prewetts that lived here. The family is okay with its use and the house is being used for educational purposes.”

The man growled in response, stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket, and turned away. The darkness swallowed him up as he limped back toward his small cottage on the grounds. Hermione turned to Neville, a frown pulling on her lips.

“Well,” she sighed, glancing around them before summoning her coat from a nearby closet. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Harry said everyone would be at the pub around the corner, just in case. Want to grab a beverage?”

Neville nodded and led her through the door. “Will Luna be there?”

“As if any of us could stop her,” Hermione laughed as she gripped his forearm. 

They took a step and disappeared from the manor with a loud, resounding crack. Neither aware that in the darkness they left behind, a shadow lurked and watched with narrow, pain-filled eyes.

* * *

“The children really enjoyed it!” Neville’s bellowing voice could be heard across the pub as Hermione stood at the bar with Harry to get another drink. “I don’t understand why anyone likes to be scared, but I suppose Ron, Harry, and Hermione were always chasing danger, too. Bloody Gryffindors.”   
  
“Oi, you numpty!” Ron’s laughter followed, and Hermione smiled as she pressed her face into Harry’s warm shoulder. “You’re a Gryffindor, too!”

“The best Gryffindor, as I see it.” Theo Nott’s eyes followed them as they made their way back to the table, each sporting a grin they couldn’t contain. “Ask any Slytherin, we all believe these two should have been sorted with us.”

“Eugh,” Ron grumped with a sour face. “Watch your disgusting mouth, Nott.”

“Ron, be nice.” Luna nudged him in the shoulder even as Neville saddled up next to her and laid his arm against the booth behind her. God, Hermione could sense the tension between the three of them, and she had to wonder if any of them even realized what was forming there. Neville was so smitten; she found it adorable. “Slytherins aren’t all bad. Take Theo, for instance. He disavowed his father, and now he’s a brilliant Auror with you lot!”

Ron grumbled, but said nothing more on the subject. She could feel Harry’s rumbling laughter against her side, though, and struggled to contain her own. Leave it to Luna Lovegood to keep Ron’s gigantic and ill-timed mouth in check.

“Former Hogwarts houses notwithstanding,” she said, hoping that a change in subject might cause the tension to disappear. “I think you lot should plan to come tomorrow night. See the haunted house for yourselves. It’s quite brilliant.”

“No.” Theo shook his head. “Why would I purposefully go somewhere meant to scare me? That sounds so counter-intuitive, and makes me question how the fuck you all even defeated The Dark Lord.” She thought he added another disparaging ‘bloody Gryffindors’, but it could have been only her imagination, and she chose to ignore it.

“Oh, come on.” Harry swirled the liquid around in his glass and elbowed Theo in the side. “From what I understand, Hermione thinks there’s a boggart in the old place. You could put your Auror skills to good use after all.”

“If Golden Girl needs me to get rid of a simple boggart for her, then I wish to change my partner to Weasley.” Theo snorted into his drink before tossing it back. Everyone knew that if Theo and Ron were partners, a new wizarding war would break out, and no one held back their laughter at the thought.

“I’m sure the boggart is nothing to be worried about. It actually adds to the effect of the house. A few of the customers who walked through mentioned how cool it was that a certain room could change so quickly.” The table broke into another little laugh. “They thought we used a projector of some kind.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll go to your bloody haunted house then.” He threw a few sickles onto the table and yanked his coat over his shoulders.

“Good.” Hermione grinned and snuggled close to Harry, soaking in his warmth. She tilted her chin up to find his brilliant green eyes already staring down at her. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, love.” He planted a light kiss on her forehead, which earned a healthy round of faux gagging noises from their friends.

* * *

Hermione sat in her staged room. The candles flickered around her, the same as the night before. She listened for the tricks around the house, the feet pattering across the floor, the jovial screams and subsequent laughter. She actually found some joy doing this; for a few moments between crowds, Hermione considered that she might like to teach one day. Being an Auror was a great job, where she got to make a difference, but watching the children interact with and learn more about Muggles, stoked something inside of her she hadn’t felt since the creation of S.P.E.W.

A loud, bloodcurdling scream echoed through the house. Someone must have gotten the scare of their life, Hermione thought with a little smile to herself. She blew on the bubbling concoction that brewed in her cauldron and waited for her next lot of customers.

Another scream, this time followed by thundering footsteps, and hushed whispers. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She straightened from her bent position and gripped her wand. She stole from the room, careful to keep the vine wood against her leg and out of plain sight; it would do no good for her to overreact and cause a scene with so many Muggles present.

Hermione peeked her head around the first hallway she came to. The footsteps echoed away from her, and she knew she was headed in the right direction. Another scream jolted her into moving faster. Her steps were light but quick as she made her way down the hallway, passing a series of open doors with empty rooms behind them. When she saw the first closed door she came to, Hermione gripped its knob gently and swung it open.

She jumped, heart in her throat, as something dropped down on top of her. Bones, lightweight plastic and string, danced around her head and shoulders as its owner laughed maniacally in a robotic tone. Hermione cursed and swatted the skeleton away. There wasn’t much else in the room, save for a wardrobe at the back. It rattled, she was sure of it, before it went still again. There was another scream behind her, but she was positively certain something was hiding in that wardrobe.

Her hand clasped the little wooden knob in the front. Before she could open it, a hand clasped around her shoulders. Hermione jumped back, stamping on the foot behind her, and upon hearing the terrified gasp of a young girl, she spun around. A Hogwarts student, dressed from head to toe in thick, bloody gauze, stared back at her.

“Auror Granger! Auror Granger!” The girl was hysterical and wailing, her body quaking.

Hermione grabbed her by the shoulders and held her firm. “What is it? What’s happened?”

The girl cowered, her cries evident in her thick, raspy voice. “Someone’s been killed!”

* * *

It was cold outside. 

Dark and damp and filled with palpable fear in the air. The winds whipped around her, and even though Harry wrapped his thick, wool cloak around her frame, she was chilled to the bone. Her teeth chattered as she watched the house being evacuated. A body was hovered out, covered in a sheet. Red blotches stained the cover and Hermione had to turn her gaze elsewhere. No matter how many times she’d seen a dead body in her line of work, it never got easier.

The Obliviation Squad walked toward the small crowd that formed on the grounds of the manor, and one by one, they removed the memories of the Muggle workers who had witnessed unspeakable horror inside the manor. They hadn’t yet found out who had been with the man when he was killed, but whispers through the group of onlookers seemed to agree that whatever — or whoever — it was, was evil.

“How are you holding up?” Harry stood in front of her with a cup of warm, dark liquid, and held it out for her to take. “Drink up; hot chocolate. It’ll help.”

She took the cup and sipped on it. Her eyes flicked around the grounds. “Everything was fine. They were all laughing, Neville chased someone down the hall. Everything was fine. And then…” Hermione shuddered and pressed her lips into a tight line before continuing on. “Merlin, Harry, that scream.”

“Well, we’re sure that it’s murder,” he said, grimacing as a line of Muggles were led from the property and into an official Muggle vehicle. He lowered his head down to speak quietly in her ear. “The body’s being sent by portkey to Mungo’s. We don’t have any suspects. Did you see anything at all?”

Hermione shook her head, fingers clenching around the polystyrene cup. “No. All I heard was the scream, then everyone running down the hall, and then one of the students told me that someone had been killed. There was nothing… out of place.”

Harry made a noise, something between a grunt and a sigh. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pressed his lips to her curls. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“You couldn’t possibly know that someone would be killed in a Muggle haunted house, Harry.” Hermione rolled her eyes and snuggled into him further. “I keep going over it in my head, but I don’t think there’s anything that seems consistent with the way the body was found. We have a boggart, but those aren’t able to physically harm anyone. Then there’s the caretaker, but look — his light is off.” She pointed in the distance toward his little cottage on the grounds. There was no movement or light coming from it. “And I really don’t think any of these Muggles are running around murdering their patrons.”

“No, that doesn’t fit either, does it?” Harry’s hand found the small of her back, and he rubbed small circles there. “Listen, why don’t you head over to my flat and stay there for the night? The wards are heavy, and I’d feel a lot better than if you were at your place tonight.”

“Um, absolutely not!” Hermione pulled away from him so that she could look into his eyes. “I don’t know if you think that because I’m your girlfriend now you can just send me away when things get hard or scary or… filled with death.” Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a single look. “But I have  _ always _ been here with you, doing the hard stuff, and I’ll be damned if you think I won’t be here for it now.”

“Okay.” He yanked her back in and held her closer than before. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just…” Harry stole a deep breath, and she swore she could hear his heartbeat in that single moment of silence. “It could have been you. And I don’t think I could live with myself if it was.”

“You can’t hold me back because you’re afraid,” she said softly as she lifted a hand to his pained face and tried to smooth the worry lines around his lips. “It wasn’t me, and I’m able to help. And, so help me Merlin, you won’t stop me.”

“This is entirely inappropriate timing, but I do love getting you so riled up.” His lips trailed from her hair to her cheek, but she stopped him by placing a hand on his chest.

“Really? Now?” She snorted, a playful eye roll that felt entirely out of place given the circumstances. “This behavior isn’t very official of you, Auror Potter.”

“Technically, I’m discussing the case with another Auror,” he said as a lopsided grin climbed his face. At her scowl, he changed tracks. “Fine, fine. I don’t think whoever did this will dare try again with a bunch of Aurors storming the place.”

Something in her gut clenched. “Then what do you suggest?”

“Well, our friends — and Theo — are supposed to be coming tonight, yeah?” Harry chewed on his bottom lip, a hesitant quirk made her nervous. “Why don’t we… use bait?”

“Harry!” Godric’s sake, he hadn’t changed much since school. “We can’t ask our friends to place themselves in this kind of danger.”

“They can always say no.” He shrugged. “They won’t; but they could.”

* * *

It was the most ridiculous group of people to enter an abandoned manor that Hermione could possibly imagine. She was reminded of countless movies that she’d watched with her parents. The odd boy, the dreamy girl, the bookworm, the jock, the broody dark one. Her life was a horror movie cliche, and Hermione was already dreading what the next few hours had in store for her.

“Okay, Theo, you’ll go with Luna—” Harry gestured down one hallway, at the same time that Ron decided to interject in true Ron fashion.

  
“Over my dead bloody body.” He puffed his chest, and Hermione rolled her eyes. “If anyone takes Luna, it’s me.”

“Ron.” Harry furrowed a brow and ran his hands through his hair. “Look. I don’t need to find you or Neville snogging Luna in a closet somewhere, alright? Theo will take Luna, and they’ll explore the hallway and rooms that way.”

“Fine. But if he so much as touches a hair on her head,” Ron threatened darkly in Theo’s direction. Theo merely smiled, a tightlipped thing that riled Ron up more than anything.

“Neville, you and Ron will go along that way. One of the students thought they saw a shadow near one of the rooms.” Harry gestured along the opposite direction and then turned to Hermione. “You and I will go upstairs and find that boggart.”

“I would just like to point out that separating the party is a terrible idea.” Theo drew all of their attention as he stared at Harry with a casual smirk. “It’s textbook Auror training.”

“Not to mention that every horror movie in existence is a lesson in how terrible an idea it is.” Hermione couldn’t believe that she was in agreement with Theo, but there it was. Perhaps one day they’d get along yet. Better late than never, since they’d been partners as Aurors for nearly five years.

“This isn’t a horror movie,” Harry said gently to her, and then turned a harsher tone to Theo. “And this isn’t your standard case at the Ministry, Nott.”

“Oh, great, a whole five years we’ve gone without surnames, and suddenly I’m back to Nott.” Theo rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Fine, Boy Wonder. We’ll play by your rules, but when everyone turns up dead, you’ll have only yourself to blame.”

“We’ll all be dead,” Luna said, her dreamy voice pulling everyone’s gaze to her. “It won’t matter much then, will it?”

Silence followed. She felt Harry stir nervously at her side.

“Right.” Neville put his hand on Luna’s shoulder and offered the group a faint smile. “On that note, then. Patronus if you need help?”

They all agreed and stole off into their respective directions. In the distance, as she climbed the stairs, she could already hear Ron and Theo’s bickering fade away. Hermione laced her fingers with Harry’s and led him to the room with the wardrobe where she expected the boggart was hiding.

“You don’t really think that a boggart could do this, do you?” Harry asked her as he laid a hand on the knob of the wardrobe. “They can’t physically harm someone, right?”

“Didn’t you pay attention at all in Professor Lupin’s class?” Hermione stood back and drew her wand from her robes. She brandished it toward the cabinet and tipped her chin. “They’re only psychological. It’s a defense mechanism. But, that’s not to say that we should leave it here for Muggles to find.”

“Right. Okay. You’re ready?” Harry’s eyes flicked from her face to her wand, and he pulled the door open.

The boggart stepped out of the wardrobe. It had been years since she’d faced one, and back then her priorities were so very different. While she knew that she wouldn’t see Professor McGonagall fail her, her heart still sped up as the boggart morphed and changed in front of her eyes. It was an old wizard, a member of the Wizengamot that she’d been examined by when becoming an Auror. He was dumpy and heavily moustached. She always got the feeling he didn’t care for her much; a Pureblood elitist if there ever was one. In his hands, he held her knotted wand.

“You’re afraid of  _ him _ ?” Harry let a laugh slip out, but Hermione stood frozen before the man and felt her palms slick with sweat.

“Hermione Granger,” the man chortled even through his severe tone. “You are in possession of a wand that doesn’t belong to you.”

  
“It does belong to me,” she argued in hushed tones. Tears collected at the corners of her eyes as she took a step forward. “It’s my wand. I got it in Diagon Alley. It’s mine!”

“Hermione—” Harry stepped to her side and grabbed her hand. “It’s a boggart, love. Think of something funny, come on.”

But the man’s strict voice cut Harry off. “You don’t deserve this wand. You’re not a  _ real _ witch!”

A sob ripped from her as the man held out her wand in both hands and snapped it in two. Harry moved around her prone frame and stood between her and the Chief Warlock. The figure morphed again, changed into something much taller, thinner, and draped in a dark, ratty cloak. The air around them cooled by several degrees, and fog issued from between Hermione’s lips.

Hermione clung to the back of Harry’s robe, fists curled into the material as she pressed her face against his shoulder blade. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t fold under the panic as she had done. He lifted his wand, and as the boggart shifted again into bedsheet, he spoke clearly, punctuated with a laugh.

“Riddikulus!”

The boggart vanished. Hermione let a sob rack her body as she sagged against Harry. He spun around and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

  
“It’s alright, love,” he whispered into her curls. “It wasn’t real. None of that was real.”

She knew that. She knew it and still, it hurt her so deeply she couldn’t even tell Harry that she knew it. He held her tighter and whispered into her ear. He promised her that it was okay, that she was brilliant, and that he loved her. Hermione started to believe it after a few moments; her hands stopped trembling, and her heart returned to a normal rhythm.

They were ripped from the moment, and Hermione from her comfort, when a familiar scream echoed through the entire manor. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, mouths open, and breathed his name at the same time.

“Ron.”

They took off running in the direction of the scream. As they turned down one hallway, Hermione swore she saw a shadow move around the corner, but convinced herself it was a trick of the light. Ron’s screams grew louder and more terrified the nearer they got to him. Harry skidded into the room first, and Hermione was hot on his trail.

Ron laid on the floor, clutching his leg. His wand had rolled far out of his reach.

  
“What happened, Ron?” Hermione launched herself to her knees at his side and reached for his leg. He jerked it away from her. “Ron! What happened?”

Blood soaked through his jeans. He whimpered, his face was shockingly pale. The freckles nearly looked green against the rest of his skin.

“Couldn’t see the bloody thing,” Ron hissed through clenched teeth. “Fucking sliced up my leg, it did.”

“It?” Harry asked; because of course, Harry was in Auror Mode and couldn’t see that Hermione was trying to wrestle Ron’s hands from his legs so she could assess the damage. Bloody men.

“I don’t know, do I?” Ron shouted. “Just a fucking shadow! Didn’t bloody see it, but it sliced my damn legs open.”

  
“Harry.” Hermione’s terrified gaze whipped to his. “We have to get him to Mungo’s now. There’s too much damage. He’ll bleed out if we don’t.”

Harry dipped a hand into his robes and withdrew a square piece of cloth wrapped around a knobbly looking object. He placed the item into Ron’s hand and withdrew the cloth. Ron vanished on the spot, headed to St. Mungo’s.

“Harry, we need to get everyone out of here now.” Hermione stood from the ground and wiped her bloody hands on her jeans. “This isn’t safe for us. It was a bad idea.”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. “Yeah, let’s round them up and—”

Two bodies rushed into the room. A whip of blonde hair alongside floppy brown. Hermione breathed a sigh, then did a double-take.

“What the hell are you two doing together?” Harry demanded, fists clenching at his sides. “Where’s Nott?”

“He’s—”

Another scream.

All four of them glanced at one another, and then dashed from the room. They found Theo after passing several rooms. He was sprawled on the floor in much the same manner as Ron. However, instead of gashes in his legs, Theo’s back was torn to shreds. As if knives had sliced through his robes, straight through the flesh of his back.

“Oh, fuck, Theo!” Harry dropped to his knees and quickly ripped Theo’s robes off. “Did you see them? Who did this to you?”

Hermione was right beside Harry, with Neville and Luna crowding around them. Theo shook his head, his face ghastly white and lips a straight, pale line.

“Boggarts have been known to become vicious overtime,” Luna whispered to the group. “Did you find the boggart?”

Hermione swallowed around a thick knot. “We did, but Harry got rid of it. Besides, they’re only psychological, Luna. They can’t physically hurt anyone.”

Luna shook her head, blonde plait dangling over her shoulder. “That’s not true. The Ministry has secret research to prove it. It was part of Scrimgeour’s plans as Minister.”

“That’s preposterous!” Hermione screeched as Theo groaned. “Scrimgeour was only Minister a short period of time! He didn’t have time to have plans!”

“While I appreciate that you’re all arguing over boggarts,” Theo said, molars grinding as he winced and hissed while Harry assessed his wounds. “Maybe it can wait until I’m not dying. Potter, seal me up and let’s go find the fucker that did this.”

“No, you’re going to Mungo’s, Theo,” Hermione pressed her hand to his shoulder to force him to lie back down. He struggled against her for a moment but gave up when she brandished her wand. “We can’t risk your injury. Just take the portkey. We’ll be okay.”

Harry wrapped Theo’s hand around a handkerchief containing a small bauble and then tugged the cloth away. Theo disappeared, leaving silence in his wake.

“Did anyone see anything?” Harry stood from the floor and crossed his arms over his chest. “Neither of them noticed what did this — how the hell are we supposed to find them?”

Luna’s big, blue eyes turned from Harry to Hermione. “I think I should go to the Ministry and get my research on the boggarts.”

“Luna, this isn’t a boggart!” Hermione snapped, the terror of the evening finally seizing her kindness. “This has to be a… a poltergeist or a ghost or — someone!”

“It’s statistically unlikely to be any of those things.” Luna was always so nice, but Hermione had enough.

“It’s more likely to be any of those things than a bloody boggart!” Harry’s hand came down to her shoulder, and he squeezed lightly. Hermione inhaled deeply, blinked slowly, and let a steady breath out through her nose. “Look. This isn’t going to help. If it  _ is _ a boggart, then we’ll find it and banish it like Harry did with the one we found earlier. But, if it’s not a boggart, we can’t afford to waste time arguing.”

“There are four of us now. Let’s split up and—” Harry was cut off immediately by Neville.

“Split up?” Neville gestured to the empty floor space where Theo had been moments before. “How well did that work out last time? No, we’re going together or not at all.”

“No, you and Luna need to get out of here now,” Hermione argued as she turned to Harry for backup. Harry nodded sharply and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“She’s right, Neville. Luna. It’s not safe here for you.” Harry used his free hand to pad his robes and pulled out another portkey. “It was a stupid idea to bring you here.”

“We agreed to come with you,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “If we thought it was stupid, we would have said, wouldn’t we? It’s like back in the old days and the D.A.”

“This isn’t the D.A.” Hermione felt her anger grow as the last of her patience snuffed out. She opened her mouth to lecture all three of them, but Harry silenced her with a loud “shh!”

A series of loud thunks drew their attention. Followed by the sound of scratching on the wall. Hermione’s spine was straight. Her throat raw from shallow breathing. Luna moved first; she walked out of the room, and they all followed behind. Hermione had such a tight grip on Harry’s hand, she thought she might break his fingers.

“Luna,” Harry hissed after her, but she paid him no attention as she carried on through the halls. They sped up behind her, but she was quick. She rounded a corner, and he called after her again.

“What the hell is she doing?” Neville asked, shoulder knocking into Harry’s as he hurried after her.

“It’s Luna,” Hermione whispered after him. “She does whatever Luna does.”

A loud gasp froze Hermione in her step. Harry’s chest collided with her back.

“Harry!” Neville’s voice echoed from around the corner.

Harry encouraged her to walk, and she squeezed their fingers, before tearing through the hallway and finally around the corner. Neville knelt next to Luna’s body on the ground. Hermione gasped and brought a hand to her lips.

“What the—” she whispered through her fingers.

“We were only seconds behind her!” Neville said, hand resting against the blonde’s forehead. “How the hell did this happen?”

Luna groaned, blue eyes blinking up at the ceiling. “They went into the wall. I think there’s a secret passage.”

“A secret passage,” Harry murmured, guiding Hermione forward. His hands traced the wooden panels of the wall. “There’s nothing here. Did you see anything, Neville?”

“No.” He shook his head and didn’t even bother to bring his eyes to Harry or Hermione. “Look, let’s take her to hospital. We can send in a squad to search the place.”

“You take her,” Hermione said even as she felt Harry stiffen beside her. She turned her gaze to him and grimaced. “I know that you won’t leave, and if you think I’m going to leave you alone here, you’re daft.”

Harry seemed to know better than to argue with her. He set Neville up with the portkey, and they watched both of them disappear from the room. Silence settled between them and Hermione tried to ignore the panic that was building up within her. Harry hugged her close and pressed his lips to her curls.

“We can do this,” he assured her quietly. “We don’t split up. Let’s send a Patronus to the Ministry, and we’ll have back up here in no time, yeah?”

Hermione nodded and licked her lips before sucking them into her mouth. She blinked, settled her breathing, and stepped away from Harry. “Right. Luna saw whatever, or whoever, it was move through the wall. Do we think it’s a ghost?”

“The thing is,” Harry started as he ran a hand through his hair, and then scratched at his chin. “I’ve never really known a ghost to attack people before, have you?”

“No.” She shook her head.

They walked hand in hand from the room. Her eyes scanned the walls between large, foggy windows. She stopped. Her eyes widened as she stared out the window. A light shined in the distance. She tugged on Harry’s hand and lifted her chin in the direction of the caretaker’s cottage.

“His light is on,” she whispered, even as her voice got stuck in her throat. “It was off earlier, Harry. He wasn’t happy at all that we were hosting a haunted house here. You don’t think—”

“You didn’t think to mention the caretaker until now?” Harry’s eyebrows lifted so close to his hairline. “Hermione, you do realize that he has motive  _ and _ access?”

She chewed her lip; of course, she knew that. Of course she did, and instead, she’d worried about a boggart or ghosts. Hermione made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and followed as Harry led her toward the main landing by the front door.

“Look, maybe we should go talk to him. Ask him if he knows anything.” Harry put a hand on the doorknob and pulled.

The door wouldn’t open.

“That’s not funny, Harry.” Hermione shoved him to the side with her hip and yanked on the doorknob.

Nothing happened.

“Harry.” Sick crept up her throat as she tried again to twist the knob and pull the door open. “Harry, it won’t open!”

“I know,” he whispered, gently removing her hand from the door and aiming his wand at the knob. “Alohomora.” Nothing. “Alohomora!” Still nothing. “Fuck!”

  
Harry kicked the door with his dragonhide boots. It didn’t even rattle on its hinges.

The lights in the manor flickered. Hermione jumped into Harry’s side and screamed. Harry’s hand wrapped around her waist, holding her close. She clutched her wand and watched as Harry raised his at her side.

Like a strobe light, the manor lit up in brilliant orange and was immediately drenched in darkness. She trembled in his hold as the lights flicked on and off and on and off. Every movement they made appeared as if in slow motion; he stepped forward, and Hermione’s body moved with him automatically. Her gaze travelled around the room; a shadow crept slowly across the floorboards, creaking and groaning with every step.

Hermione tried to light the tip of her wand. Nothing happened. Harry did the same. Still nothing.

Something scraped against the wall. Hermione whipped her head in its direction. Harry’s shallow breathing tickled her ear as she smacked him in the face with her curls.

The lights went out. They were enveloped in darkness. Harry’s hold on her loosened; she couldn’t feel him at her back any longer. Something brushed against her knee. Hermione screamed.

Harry called her name. He was so far away. She called back for him, but the air left her lungs as she was flung backwards and into the hard, unforgiving wall.

The lights flickered back on, bright and unwelcome to her burning eyes. She tried to move, but her body was stuck. Feet no longer touched the floor as she squeezed her eyes shut and struggled against the invisible binds that kept her in place.

“Hermione!” Harry, his voice a hoarse shout across the room.

She was too afraid to open her eyes, so Hermione cracked them one at a time. And there he was; directly across from her and stuck halfway up the opposite wall. Panic seized her. She cried out for him.

“Filthy, dirty mudblood.”

The world lurched around her. Hermione’s stomach roiled, threatening to spill its contents to the floor at her feet. She didn’t want to, her instincts fought against it, but she dragged her eyes away from Harry, following the vengeful, croaky voice that spewed derogatory names at her.

In between them stood a small, hunched house-elf, dressed in a red and green striped sweater with a golden F in the middle. His bat-like ears were ratty, a thick golden earring pierced the very tip of the curve on either ear. Large, disdainful fern-colored eyes glared back at her.

Everything she wanted to say fell short.

A house-elf. An angry, obviously distressed elf caused all of this grief.

She opened her mouth to speak, to ask why, to comfort the creature in some way. But, the house-elf raised his hand — a gloved hand that was decorated in long knives of various shapes. The silver glinted in the light. Fresh blood still dipped from the serrated edges.

“How  _ dare _ you defile the house of my masters!” The knives on his gloved hand rub together, and the sound rushed through Hermione like nails on a chalkboard. She winced as the little elf hobbled toward her. “Filthy. Vile.  _ Nasty _ . Things. You come into the home of my precious masters, and you infect it with your blood!”

“Who are you?” Harry shouted, his body seeming to convulse as he tried unsuccessfully to pull himself from the magic sticking him to the wall. “Why are you doing this? Let her go!”

The house-elf turned from Hermione slowly and faced Harry. Hermione cried no, for it to leave Harry alone, to let them go, but it was no use. The elf wasn’t listening to her anymore.

“My masters left this manor in my care,” he said viciously, each step toward Harry like a full stop at the end of a sentence. “And I have been caring for it, waiting for them, keeping their rooms pristine for their return.”

“They’re never coming back!” Harry’s angry growl ripped from him and sent chills up Hermione’s spine. “They left you. They moved on. I know the Prewetts. They would  _ never _ forgive you for hurting all of these people.”

  
“Lies!” A knifed finger slashed forward across Harry’s knee, and he grunted in pain. “They would be proud of old Freddie, cleansing their home of dirty, stinking blood traitors and their little mudbloods.”

He turned on her in an instant, and just as quickly was in front of her with his large, rageful eyes staring up at her. His gloved hand pulled back and without a way to stop him, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, and twisted her head to the side.

Of all the ways she could die, never once in a million years would she have guessed this.

The sharpest, longest knife came down quick. She held her breath, praying it didn’t hurt.

She would never find out.

  
The door burst off the hinges. A red spell was fired. Freddie was knocked back, his head colliding with the solid wood wall. She heard Harry shout at the person who entered, as Hermione sucked in several breaths and tried to calm her shaky body.

The caretaker stood framed in the door. His smooth, porous wand outstretched before him and aiming at the unconscious elf on the floor. He limped forward, little growls escaping him with every step he took.

“Alright?” He glanced back and forth between Harry and Hermione. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to speak, but Harry muttered a quiet, “yeah” before the man prodded the elf with the toe of his shoe. “I told ya, I didn’t want ya here disrupting the manor, didn’t I?”

He glared at Hermione. She swallowed around a dry knot in her throat and forced herself to nod. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“Well, how could ya?” The caretaker grumbled and reached down to check the elf’s pulse. “He’ll live.” 

He turned away from the elf again and pointed his wand at Harry. For a split second, Hermione was terrified that, perhaps, the caretaker would harm him. But, as Harry slid to the ground, she let out a shaky breath.

Harry sprinted across the room and managed to catch Hermione by the arms as the magic holding her in place came undone. She held Harry hard around the torso and buried her head into his chest. A sob left her, all the pent up emotion she’d been holding all night finally broke. Harry smoothed her hair and steered her toward the caretaker gently.

“Mister—” Harry reached out a hand to shake the caretaker’s, but he merely grunted.

“Call me Malcolm,” he said gruffly, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping the sweat that collected at the rim of his flat cap.

Hermione turned her eyes to the man’s clothing and gasped at what she saw. A beige sweater, handknit just like the elf’s. A big, red ‘M’ sewn into the chest.

The caretaker’s eyes narrowed as they found hers. “I told ya, I’ve been a caretaker to these grounds my whole life. The Prewetts were my family.” He shoved his handkerchief back into his pocket and grimaced. “The elf wasn’t always mad, but your friends tipped him over the edge, they did. I’ve been keepin’ him calm these days; losing his marbles, he is. But Freddie’s a good lad, good lad.”

“He… tried to kill us,” Harry said, deadpan and tight-lipped. “Did kill a muggle, as a matter of fact. Malcolm, we’ve got to take him away.”

“Aye, so you do.” Malcolm’s lips wore a deep, wrinkled frown. “Guess it’ll just be me on my own from now on. You kids take care, and do me a favor by keeping those Muggles off my grounds.”

Hermione nodded into Harry’s chest, sniffing as her eyes snapped to the prone elf. “Be gentle with him, Harry.”

Harry restrained the elf with Ministry issued, magical bindings, and performed a spell to levitate the little creature in front of them as they followed Malcolm through the front door and into the dark, cold night.

“Malcolm?” Hermione called to the caretaker as he trudged toward his little cottage. He turned around and leaned heavily on one foot. “We - we know the descendants of the Prewetts. If you’d like to be introduced to the great-grandchildren, we can arrange it. There are seven of them.”

She didn’t think that Malcolm would ever be a man to smile, but the life that suddenly sparked in his eyes was good enough for her.

* * *

“Is this really how you want to spend Halloween, love?”

Harry sat with his back against the plush sofa and, as Hermione fell softly onto it beside him, he held his arm out so that she could snuggle into his side. He pressed a firm kiss to her temple as he stole the big bowl of popcorn from her hand and placed it on his lap.

“Of course. It’s tradition,” Hermione said with a big grin. She shoved her hand into the bowl and stuffed a small fistful of popcorn into her mouth. “You promised.”

He groaned and held her tighter. “I spent so many Halloweens afraid for my life. Why in Merlin’s name would I want to watch other people afraid for their lives, too?”

“Oh, come on, Harry!” she laughed and planted her hand on his chest. Her fingers curled into the white cotton material as she smiled up at him. “It’s only a few scary movies. And they’re not real; not like—”

His nostrils flared. The memories of a few weeks prior flitting through the shadows in his bright green eyes. “You haven’t slept right since that night. You can hardly blame me for being concerned that watching Michael Meyers chasing around unsuspecting victims will make it even worse.”

She forced the memories away, as she’d done for a fortnight. Her fingers trailed from his chest, down to his hard stomach, and up again. “Robards cleared me to return to work. I’ll be fine. Besides, these movies never really scare me anyway.”

“Mmm.” Harry knew he lost the fight; she could feel his hesitation drifting away the longer she stroked his torso. “I don’t think this is healthy.”

“Well, maybe I just want a reason for you to hold me closer on a dark and stormy night.” Hermione raised her winged brows, a playful sparkle in her eyes.

“Hardly need scary movies for that, love.” His hand ran the length of her arm, fingers climbing the path back to her shoulder.

Goosebumps broke out on her skin. Warmth blossomed in her chest. Fingers clenched against his sternum as she pushed herself up to stare directly into his eyes. Hermione kissed him, and for several moments she was lost in the feel of him; his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, his heartbeat against her hand, the hot wet kiss that turned hungry before slowing into a languid caress of lips.

When she pulled away, a satisfied smile on her face, she watched as his heavy-lidded eyes flashed with something -- worry, perhaps. She pushed a chunk of hair from his forehead and traced her thumb over his lightning bolt-shaped scar.

“I’m glad they cancelled the haunted house, after everything.” Harry moved the popcorn bowl off his lap and encouraged Hermione to straddle his hips. He held her firmly at the waist as she ducked her head to give him a quick, chaste kiss. “Ron still hasn’t met Malcolm, but Molly’s invited him to dinner at The Burrow for the holidays.”

“I think it’s nice,” she said just a few millimeters from his lips. Her eyes dragged from his lips to his eyes. “He’s been so alone for such a long time. It’s right that we introduced him to Molly and the Weasleys.”

Silence sat between them like an old friend, comfortable and welcome.

Harry ran his hands through her hair, fingertips curling through her waves. “I was terrified of losing you that night,” he admitted quietly.

Warmth blossomed in her chest. Fingers clenched against his sternum as she pushed herself up to stare directly into his eyes. “You’re never going to lose me.”

He fidgeted for a beat and then lifted one hand between them. Her eyes focused first on the diamond, and then on the simple gold band that held it. Hermione’s mouth fell open as she snapped her gaze to his. Bright eyes stared back at her, a lopsided smile crinkling them at the corners.

“Promise?” he asked, eyebrows high on his forehead.

She plucked the ring from his fingers and then slipped it onto her hand without a second thought. Her lips crashed into his. Harry’s hands were back into her hair, and she was as close to him as she could possibly be as answered him without any words at all.


End file.
